


Fort Night

by Glue_the_Grue



Category: MS Paint Adventures, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:24:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glue_the_Grue/pseuds/Glue_the_Grue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stream request was for drunken pillow fort shenanigans with monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fort Night

As couples go, Sleuth and Inspector were fairly normal, once you got past the whole ‘private detectives who saved the universe’ thing. They went on dates, got each other presents, liked to cuddle, and all those other things associated with having a significant other. But there was one tradition they had that they were quite sure no one else did.

Drunken fort night.

The whole MK debacle, while dangerous and confusing with a large dash of aggravating, hadn’t been enough adventure for them. If anything, it just whet their appetite, and even before they bridged that gap and finally confessed their feelings like adults instead of acting like high schoolers with a bad crush they had been making forays into the realm of imagination to sate their desire for dangerous escapades (with plenty of silly puzzle shit, of course).

Ace hadn’t wanted to take part, even from the beginning, shit as his imagination was. So it was something that was wholly theirs, and they were quite unabashed about it. Come saturday night, instead of finding them in some bar, or out at a nice restaurant, they’d be curled up under some makeshift fort, drunk as a high schooler left home alone on the weekend. As of late, they’d spend more time making out instead of actually heading into the imaginary realm, but with Inspector’s heightened imagination levels going unchecked longer and longer as they forgot the reason they had gotten drunk in the first place, weird shit started happening.

Weird monster shit. The first time, it had just been a simple slime monster, small and pathetic, and it had dissipated on its own, not strong enough to sustain itself in the real world. Sometimes they wouldn’t even notice, thinking that the mess they woke up to was from their drunken shenanigans, instead of something more sinister. But they eventually figured it out, the one night they decided to make a pillow fort from couch cushions and a baby tentaclebeast came screaming into life (after the fact, they were quite glad there were only blankets and pillows to fall into, instead of hard wood or cold metal).

It had landed on top of them, crushing them beneath its wriggling weight and the few blankets they had been using as tenting. It took a minute or two of confused flailing for them to disentangle themselves and get far enough away from the monster’s grasp, staring at it drunkenly while it moaned and wailed, leaking some weird goo all over the place.

“Pickle, Pick, P hey look, theres. A monster.”

“I can see it.”

“Whys there a monster Picklllle.”

“I don’t know Sleuth! We aren’t in the imaginary realm yet, are we?”

“It just looks like our apartment.”

“…Is it an imaginary apartment?”

They look around confused, trying to ignore the thrashing, leaking bundle of tentacles in favor of figuring out what had happened. Inspector takes a moment to try and conjure something up, waving his arms around excitedly, but nothing happens, and he just nods at Sleuth’s confused expression.

“We’re still in the real world. My waves did nothing!”

“But, then, whys there a monster? It better not be your long-lost father come to tell me not to kiss his son without marrying him first or something.”

“Why would that even happen?”

“I don’t know!”

“Besides, its a baby monster.”

“It’s probably still old enough to be your dad!”

“My dad isn’t a tenatclebeast!”

“BUT HOW DO WE KNOW?”

Inspector just glares at him in frustration, turning his attention back to the beast. He stands up and takes a moment to help Sleuth up as well, then totters off to get something as Sleuth stands there, still staring dumbfounded at the beast. Inspector, ring of keys in hand, returns to the sight of Sleuth poking the monster with a pillow, questioning it about its motives and whether or not Inspector was a cute baby.

“Sleuth, please-”

“I need to know Pickel. Show me the baby pictures, you fiend!”

Inspector just watches for a moment as Sleuth drops the pillow in favor of picking the beast up and shaking it. It wails at him and spits up more of the strange goo, covering his front. Sleuth just drops the thing and looks at Inspector with a forlorn expression.

“Your dad puked on me. I don’t think he likes me.”

“For the last time Sleuth, that monster is not my dad!”

He accentuates his sentence by firing the gun, causing the wailing monster to explode into a steaming mess of ectoplasmic goo. Sleuth just stares at it in confusion before laughing hysterically, the words “explosive personality” slipping out between all the laughter. With the monster dead the mess evaporates quickly, and Inspector just sets about getting another bottle of alcohol while Sleuth rolls around on the floor in a fit. He’s finished half the bottle by the time Sleuth calms down again, and he offers it to him after sitting next to him on the ruins of their pillow fort.

“Are you quite finished now?”

“Yes I am. Laughing, I mean. I’m not quite done with you yet, though.”

Sleuth’s face (imagine wiggling eyebrows), coupled with how he says it, sets Inspector into his own laughing fit, and they spend the rest of the night rolling around in a mess of pillows and blankets, having put the monster incident out of their mind.

They’re going to regret not thinking about it, though, when that minotaur drops in on their next fort party.


End file.
